Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Orlissa
Summary: Skye's trying to work, but is not being very productive thanks to Fitz, who has something on his mind but is reluctant to speak up. Christmas cuteness set in the Haylie/Ada/Ellie Verse (Implied Skyeward)


**A/N:** So I wasn't the most active this year, which I hate, but hopefully I'll be soon able to crawl out of my writing funk and deliver some sweet Skyeward stories to you :) Until then please accept my little Christmas gift—a nice dose of cuteness.

Note: the story takes place in the Haylie/Ada/Ellie verse, during the team's second Christmas together, when Skye's about 16 weeks pregnant with Haylie.

 **Rating:** K  
 **Word Count:** 1302  
 **Disclaimer:** [Add funny text here that tells you I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.]

* * *

 **'Twas the Night Before Christmas**

Skye was in the Playground's lounge, seated comfortably on the couch, laptop on her thighs, working—correction: trying to work. Because it was rather hard to concentrate on unraveling an old Hydra paper trail with the constant, annoying feeling of being watched distracting her. Even if she was very well aware of who was watching her.

This area of the base was all but deserted, everyone away doing their thing, so it was just her and Fitz, who was a couple steps from her, pattering around the dining table, wrapping last minute Christmas gifts, trying to be, but, as usual, not succeeding, to be subtle. As soon as Skye'd get in the right headspace for serious work, the pricking feeling on the back of her neck would start, the tell-tale sign of being watched; so she'd lift her head, only to see Fitz hastily turn away, as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She could almost even swear seeing the tips of his ears turn red.

It was almost fun for, like, ten minutes. Then it became annoying as hell.

"You want to say something?" she blurted out when she reached the end of patience, fluttering her lashes at him. Fitz almost jumped at the sound of her voice, dropping the scissors he was holding (she couldn't hold a tiny smirk back).

"No…" he mumbled, diving under the table—almost bumping his head into the edge of it in the process—to retrieve the scissors. Shrugging to herself, Skye turned her gaze back to the laptop screen, only to hear him clear his throat thirty seconds later. "Skye?"

"Yes?"

"Ah, forget it," he shook his head. "It's stupid."

"That's it!" She pushed the laptop off her leg and leaned forward, ready to march over to him. "You've playing this little I-wanna-say-something-but-I-keep-my-mouth-shut game for… way too long now, and it was cute at first, but now you're driving me up the wall. So you either spit out what you want _now_ , or I'll go and… I don't know. Change all your schematics on your computer to cat pictures. Or…" She was sure there was a maniacal glint in her eyes at this point, "I'll go and tell Jemma what you bought her for Christmas."

"You wouldn't dare," he shook his head, but the slight tremor in his voice told her that he, in fact, knew that she would.

"Watch me," she challenged, her mouth pulling into a determined smirk.

Fitz let out a defeated sigh. "Alright…" He pushed his hands into his pants pockets in a nervous gesture, then pulled them out almost right away. "But I told you it's stupid."

"Fitz…" she warned him.

"Okay! So," he cleared his throat again, walking over to her and sitting down on the coffee table, facing her. "So I was thinking that it's a big week and everything," he made a vague gesture towards her middle, where the slight curve of her belly was almost completely hidden by her top, "with the baby starting to hear and everything…"

"Yeah, I know that, I read that in the…" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going wide a little and her mouth pulling into a mischievous smile. "Wait a minute. You've been reading my pregnancy book?"

Fitz looked like a deer in the headlights. "No, of course not," he scoffed, trying sound nonchalant, then swallowed and looked at her sheepishly. "I've been looking things up online." Pause; she trained her gaze on him. "And I might have discussed it with Jemma." She kept staring; he gulped. "And I downloaded an app." She chuckled at his confession, covering her mouth with her hand. "We're all excited for you, okay?" he blurted out.

"I'm sorry, really am. It's actually really sweet," she reassured her friend, reaching forward and patting his arm. "But you wanted to say something…?"

"Yes!" Fitz mentally shook himself, getting back to his previous train of thought. "So, yeah, I was thinking that… Well, when I was kid, my mum would read me these stories on Christmas Eve, and Christmas Eve is here, and she's supposed to hear now and all," she gestured towards her belly again, "so, I thought—well, not just thought, but…"

"Fitz," Skye cut in calmly, "before New Year's Eve, please."

"Sorry. So… I bought some books. For her. Picture books. And I thought… maybe you'd let me read them to you?"

"Leo, I…" Skye blinked, surprised and touched, "read them to me?"

"Well, to the little monkey."

"I wish you stopped calling her that."

"Well," he shrugged, a slight, teasingly accusing tone in his voice, "I would, if you've finally settled on the name."

Grabbing a cushion, she threw it at him without any malice in the attack. "We'll settle when we settle. It's a big decision, you know?" She smiled. "But…" her hand slipped down to her belly, "I'd love that. The reading, I mean."

Fitz's face brightened up. "That's awesome! Um… now? Do you have anything pressing?"

Skye cast a sideways glance at her laptop, then reached out and closed the lid. "Nothing that can't wait an hour or so."

His smile became even wider as he all but jumped from his seat. "Wait here, I'll be back in a sec with the books," and with that he was already on his way out of the room.

Chuckling to herself, Skye placed the laptop on the coffee table, so it'd be out of the way, then turned sideways and lay down on the couch, wedging a cushion between her head and the armrest. She slid a hand under her sweater, caressing her belly. "You're very damn lucky, baby girl."

Fitz was back in less than five minutes, a small stack of colorful books clutched in his hands. Grinning like a fool, he settled on the floor right next to her, so his head was basically in line with her middle.

"So I thought we could start with…" he started, browsing through the books, "no, not _The Grinch_ , that's too scary." (Skye chuckled.) "What about _The Night Before Christmas_?"

"Works for me," Skye shrugged, smiling.

"Alright…" Fitz put the other books on the table, then gestured somewhat awkwardly towards her belly. "May I? Roll the sweater back?"

"Why?"

"The material might muffle the sound. She's just starting to hear, let's not make it even more difficult for her."

Skye couldn't help it; she actually let out a tiny laugh at that. "Sorry, sorry, not laughing at you… Of course, wait a minute…" Complying, she pulled her sweater and undershirt back, so the taut skin of her belly peeked out. "All ready for you, Dr. Fitz."

"Very funny," he mocked, then opened the book, cleared his throat, and started in an almost calculated tone, with a very careful pronunciation, his Scottish twang almost gone: " _'Twas the night before Christmas_ … Is it okay?"

"If you wanna try out for the national radio, then sure," she teased him, chuckling—he _was_ sounding very comical—, to which he made a face.

"It's not funny," he wrinkled his nose. "I might have an ulterior motive here: I want her to recognize me from my voice when she's born."

She ruffled his hair in a rather sisterly way. "Then maybe try your normal voice, you dork."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea…" even he cracked a smile at that. "So…" he took a deep, almost dramatic breath, then started again, this time with his usual accent: " _'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse_ —"

This time it was her interrupting him. "And Leo?" He looked into her eyes. "Of course she'll recognize you when she's born."

She'd remember his responding smile for years to come, she was sure.


End file.
